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A jest's prosperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it.
How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
But miserable most, to love unloved? This you should pity rather than despise.
I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
The flow'ry way that leads to the broad gate and the great fire.
The brain may devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold decree.
Is it sin to rush into the secret house of death Ere death dare come to us?
No profit grows where is no pleasure ta'en. In brief, sir, study what you most affect.
I am giddy; expectation whirls me round. Th' imaginary relish is so sweet That it enchants my sense.
The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.
Against my soul's pure truth why labor you To make it wander in an unknown field?
It easeth some, though none it ever cur'd, To think their dolour others have endur'd.
But love is blind, and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit.
I do know of these That therefore only are reputed wise For saying nothing.
Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie Which we ascribe to heaven.
How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds Makes deeds ill done!
By heaven, I do love, and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to be melancholy.
Sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eyes, Steal me awhile from mine own company.
Our doubts are traitors And makes us lose the good we oft might win By fearing to attempt.